


do it in my mouth

by Buzzymite



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Piss kink, jreg don't read, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buzzymite/pseuds/Buzzymite
Summary: "Do it in my mouth, Tankie.""Chto!?""My mouth, goddammit! Piss in my mouth!"
Relationships: Anarcho-Communism/Communism (Centricide)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	do it in my mouth

Ancom was a confusing enigma when it came to intimacy.

This was something Commie came to know very well as their relationship had progressed. He was aware of their flip-floppy preferences, how they would desire to be dominated one night and then take control the next. He was understanding when Ancom would express how much they _loved_ to have their face shoved into a pillow so they can't scream, how much they adored being overpowered and forced to obey... and yet how much they loved to be on top of Tankie, riding him and berating him for being a statist and for not caring about individualism.

Commie could understand these things. But it didn't mean he was always okay with them.

There were many moments when Ancom simply refused to comply to being tossed around like a stuffed animal in bed, and these moments tended to cause tension. Lots of tension. It wasn't uncommon for the two of them to get into a minor spat in bed, with clothes being torn off and pillows and sheets thrown to the floor in frustration as Tankie would struggle to keep Ancom's lithe figure pinned to the mattress, and Ancom would land blow after blow to the communist's larger frame with their slender feet. These minor power struggles would almost always end in the taller extremist's favor, and Ancom would give no further complaints besides a simple sigh or a "fuck you, dictator".

This time, however, is different. There is no fight, no argument, and no struggle as Ancom approaches Tankie one day with a very clear and concise request. A simple blowjob is all they ask for, just _one_ BJ without getting their face ruthlessly fucked. They present the idea while the communist is alone, reading in an armchair, so he sees no issue with setting aside _The Socialist Imperative_ in favor of playing into the anarchist's desires.

Ancom is eager this time around, and they climb onto the chair gracefully, swinging their legs on either side of Tankie and leaning forward to press their small hands against his hard stomach. A sort of half-moan, half-whimper leaves the authoritarian as Anarkiddy's mouth grazes his neck, and he relaxes as they begin to savor him, planting delicate wet kisses along his flushed skin and dragging the tip of their tongue over him languidly.

Commie tries to lean into them when they sit back on him, tries to catch a taste of those lips that had given his neck much passionate love, but is rudely shoved back by an index finger. The Marxist blinks in confusion and tries the attempt again, only to have the same result. He frowns this time, a light blush dusting his cheeks as the anarchist giggles.

"Anarkiddy..."

"Nuh-uh. I said I want control this time."

Commie huffs in defeat, having completely forgotten the other leftist's one condition, and sinks back into the armchair, watching them as they tug their hood down, revealing soft brown curls. "I want you to stand up, okay? I wanna be on my knees," they purr.

"Fine, get up then."

The two make the transition smoothly, with Ancom sliding off of Tankie's lap and lowering themselves to their knees on the floor as the authoritarian rises out of the armchair, kicking the leg down and positioning himself in front of the shorter leftist. He unfastens his leather belt, the metal clacking together as its released, and goes to unbutton his pants before Ancom makes a high-pitched keening sound. Tankie pauses and glances down.

"Tankieee... I _said_ I want _control_."

"You do have control."

The anarchist crosses their arms, pouting. "You're doing everything for me. I wanted to take your pants off."

"Then do it."

"Fine, I will then!"

"Fine."

"And you're going to enjoy it!"

"Alright."

Ancom huffs, then sits up on their knees, shuffling forward and focusing their attention on the obvious bulge protruding from the other extremist's pants. Licking their lips, they lower themselves so they're eye-level to the Russian's crotch. Commie gives a breathy gasp as they grab at him, and tilts his head below to see Ancom palming him through the front of his pants.

A few rough tugs and gentle squeezes are just enough to get precum to start soaking into the fabric, and Anarkiddy glances up at the communist with a smug look in their bright green eyes. "Gee, Tankie, you're awfully eager." They receive a threatening growl in response, and grin as they unbutton his pants, unzip his fly and tug down his boxers. Their smile only widens once they're face-to-face with Tankie's erection.

Swiping their tongue over their lips again, Ancom trails a slim finger along the communist's thick shaft, eliciting a low groan. They trace a vein lightly before using their thumb to pull back the foreskin, exposing the sensitive head already dribbling precum. Humming hungrily, the anarchist flicks their tongue out, catching some of the falling strands and swallowing after. They begin to kitten-lick at the head of Tankie's cock, relishing in the deep exhales they draw from the Russian, who lifts his hand to tangle his fingers into the other's soft brown locks.

Slowly, Tankie pushes their head down, and Anarkiddy eagerly engulfs his erection, sinking down to the hilt and causing him to shiver. Commie watches with a half-lidded gaze as they pull their head up, swirl their small pink tongue around the tip, then sink back down, closing their eyes and giving a quiet moan.

God, they were so good at this.

His grip on their hair tightens, and he bites down on his lip, resisting the urge to fuck their mouth. They deserved this, they deserved to set the pace for once, to not be smothered and overpowered relentlessly. He should at least _try_ to hold back on his natural impulses, should at least try to make an effort to push down how his mind is screaming at him to thrust his hips forward. So he does. He tries.

And Anarkiddy seems quite happy with this endeavor, as they begin to bob Commie's erection, the air being filled with the sound of cheeks hollowing and saliva being swallowed. Each time they deepthroat him, Tankie can't help but groan, and each time they lift up, he shivers at the sight of their shining green eyes staring up at him through thick dark lashes.

Eventually the whole ordeal becomes too much for them as well, and Ancom reaches an arm down, beginning to palm at themself under their skirt. The resulting moan sends vibrations through the cock in their mouth, which causes Tankie to hiss and buck his hips forward, despite his tryhard efforts to hold back.

The sounds don't stop, either, as Ancom starts to rub at the front of their panties before quickly growing impatient and hiking their skirt up, tugging their underwear down hastily. Their own arousal springs from the lacy black undergarment, the tip drooling with precum, and they eagerly wrap a hand around themself. They stall no further in timing their strokes to the pace of their sucking, and they whimper around Tankie's cock as they take him in deeper, the head of his erection hitting the back of their throat and causing them to gag. They can feel the Russian's strong hand hold their head down, a deep growl rumbling from his throat as tears prick the corners of their eyes. 

"Good kitty..." the communist grumbles, and Ancom can't help but whine pathetically as they feel Tankie drag his cock out of their mouth, only to snap his hips forward and shove it back in. They speed up their strokes on their own dick, the precum dripping down their length only serving as sufficient lube as they jack themself off, moaning as Commie begins to facefuck them.

It always turned to this, it _always_ did. Ancom wants to complain, but can't. It wouldn't make sense to, anyway, what with Tankie being an authoritarian and all... it's only natural that he wants to turn the tables in his favor, to have power over them in the end. They were so convinced that they had a chance at control this time. So, so convinced and so sure.

Their disappointed musings are instantly wiped from their mind as they feel Commie grabbing handfuls of their soft brown hair into each palm like reins. Ah yes. Authoritarian. They want to roll their eyes in exasperation, but instead let out a surprised whimper as Tankie begins bucking into their mouth at a quicker pace, the tip of his cock bouncing off the back of their throat with every thrust. Ancom's eyes flutter shut as they focus more on pleasuring themself, whining quietly as they tease their dick with feathery light strokes.

It continues like this, with Ancom tugging at their cock and Commie giving them praise for how good they're doing, how adorable they are like this, they take him so well, ah fuck Anarkiddy. Ancom is swept up in the pleasurable facade, relaxing their throat and enjoying themself anyway. They always did love when things got rough with Tankie, that they couldn't deny.

They're too far lost in the moment that they don't even notice when Tankie slows down, only opening their eyes once the taller extremist has completely stopped moving his hips. They gaze up at him, quirking an eyebrow in question as they pause their own strokes.

Commie's face is no longer that of blissful dominance, though the blush remains dark on his cheeks. Instead, he's now staring down at Ancom, looking like a child who was just caught with their hand in a cookie jar. "Um- Anarkiddy, I... I have to..."

Ancom lifts their head, Tankie's erection pulling out of their mouth with a pop. "Huh?"

"I... have to take a quick break."

"Aw, how come? Too much for you, big guy?"

The authoritarian removes his hands from Ancom's hair, and they feel a twinge of guilt as he instead lifts one up to his neck to rub at it awkwardly. Had they done something wrong? "No no, I just have to..." An awkward glance down, as if he wants the anarchist to catch on and understand.

They don't. Ancom is even more confused. He couldn't just spit it out, could he?

"I have to use the restroom..."

Ah.

Ancom's gaze relaxes. "You gotta piss? Why didn't you just say that, then?"

"... You were busy."

"Yeah I was fuckin' busy but here I thought I did somethin' wrong, and all you gotta do is piss?"

"Sorry."

Ancom sighs, grabbing Tankie's cock and wrapping their lips around the tip. They freeze when they hear the communist making sounds of discomfort, and roll their eyes before pulling off once more. "What?"

"Did you not just hear me? I have to-"

"Piss. I know. Big fuckin' deal. Do it in my mouth."

There's a moment of silence. Ancom stares at Tankie, their face set in a serious expression, while the Russian is completely dumbfounded, his jaw slack in shock as he stares at them with wide red eyes. "You-"

"Do it in my mouth, Tankie."

"Chto!?"

"My mouth, goddammit! Piss in my mouth!"

Commie flinches at how demanding Ancom has suddenly become, and swallows awkwardly, biting the inside of his cheek and grabbing their hair in fistfuls again. Ancom lets out a satisfied huff as they take Tankie's erection back in their mouth and sink down to the hilt, their nose brushing against the bottom of his red wool sweater. Waiting.

Eventually the communist musters up the courage to start gently fucking into their mouth once more, and Anarkiddy hums around him, feeling a swell of pride at how they, an anarchist, just successfully commanded an authoritarian to do what they want him to. They take ahold of their own erection again, their dick twitching in want as they resume stroking themself.

A feeling of suspense is lingering in the air as Ancom relaxes their throat, then starts to bob their head again and tease the tip of Tankie's cock with their tongue, causing the taller leftist to nearly choke at their ministrations. They're waiting, waiting for Commie to break, waiting to feel something else touching their tongue besides his warm flesh - and they don't have to wait long.

Commie's hips stutter, and a breathy groan leaves him as he starts to empty his bladder into the anarchist's mouth. The bitter taste - _too much vodka?_ \- hits Ancom's tongue instantly, and their eyes flick upwards to look at Tankie through thick dark lashes. The Russian's gaze is fixed on them, shivers wracking his frame from how adorable they look with their lips wrapped around him and how good, how _sinfully good_ it feels. Anarkiddy's mouth is so hot and wet and perfect around him, the authoritarian can barely think as he pulls the other's hair and bucks his hips forward into their compliant mouth. He should be disgusted, this act should be vile, but as pure relief overtakes Commie, he finds himself unbearably aroused. Ancom looks so pretty like this, it makes his head spin, and the act itself - this filthy, dirty secret the two leftists now share - is somehow both depraving and erotic.

Ancom struggles to breathe deeply, in and out, letting their mouth fill with piss completely before each gulp to savor it. The strong, awful taste of alcohol sticks to their tongue as they eagerly wait for their mouth to fill up again, their cheeks swelling with the warm liquid, before they swallow once more, a small moan escaping them. They jack themself off faster and their little tongue works at Commie, even as they struggle to drink all he has to offer, and their eyes beg for Tankie's to meet them, to see just how much he's enjoying this.

Commie is watching them, a relieved look on his face as they heave for air, and his grip on their head trembles slightly as they lightly suck at the tip of his cock. He isn't really controlling what he has left to give, and as the flow starts to weaken, Ancom sucks harder at him, hungry for more. He groans, too far beyond the point of giving a damn, and bucks his hips further into Ancom's mouth, the wet sound accompanying it followed by the anarchist's choked one of pleased surprise sending him reeling and over the edge.

He shudders and holds Anarkiddy tightly when he cums, filling up their mouth with yet another one of his fluids. Ancom's own orgasm chases his, and they don't wait to swallow as they eagerly lap at his cock, drinking up the salty liquid as their own release makes a mess on the underside of their skirt.

It's only when Tankie sighs, releases their hair, and steps back that Anarkiddy coughs, knocking a fist against their chest and clearing their throat. "Fuck," they hiss, their voice hoarse. Tankie is already tucking himself back into his pants, and he kneels down, pulling Ancom's hood over their head and tugging their sweater down to smooth out the wrinkles. Anarkiddy is too busy staring at the floor, wheezing to catch their breath, but Commie can tell from the way they look up at him with a softened gaze that they appreciate the attempt at aftercare.

He stands up again, holding out a hand for the anarchist. They take it after a few more coughs, their small fingers interlacing with his larger ones as he heaves them up onto their feet and pulls them in for a sincere embrace. "I'm sorry, if- if I was too rough, comrade."

Ancom's voice is scratchy, but they respond anyway. "Nah, you're fine. I told you to, didn't I?"

"That is true..."

Not much else is said, and the two of them stand there in the middle of the living room, relishing in each other's warmth. Anarkiddy's face is buried in Tankie's chest as they drink in his scent - vodka and pine wood - and Commie's strong arms are wrapped around them, squeezing gently.

Ancom is an anarchist. They should be scolding themself for leaning into Tankie so easily, for closing their eyes and relaxing against him... but they can't. They're too content in this moment, too happy... and they feel too loved.

**Author's Note:**

> if you know my twitter you know my twitter


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